


Independence - Lost

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Resistance AU [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Leia doesn't handle her injuries well.





	

Kylo is off making sure the ship is safe, leaving Hux with Leia. He knows he’s been left with her because he’s one of the few people Kylo would trust to keep her safe. 

And while Hux has been around her plenty, he’s still sure that the thinning of her lips and the tightening of her eyes is because she disapproves of him. He always feels like she’s about to pronounce a sentence on him, and it’s unsettling. 

So. Being alone with her, when she’s already injured, and they’re on the run for their lives? Fun. In a way that means _absolutely not fun_. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asks.  


“I’m fine,” she snaps, in a way that sounds _oh so familiar_ , reminding Hux yet again that Kylo is his mother’s son.   


“I know, but I’d still like to help.”  


She doesn’t like being helpless, he can tell. Her loss of control is upsetting her, and he doesn’t know if he should offer to help her with the things she’s struggling with, or if he should just do them, or pretend he doesn’t see her hands shaking.

The accident had claimed a few lives. She’s lucky she walked out of it, and luckier still she kept all her limbs. Hux doesn’t know what it is about that family and bits of them being chopped off, but it’s not funny.

Anyway, she’s in splints around her wrists, and her fingers are almost constantly shaking, but she should get everything (or close to everything) back. Until then, she needs help so she doesn’t pour scalding caf over herself, or falling and being unable to get up. She’d barked Threepio out of the room, and only really let Kylo look after her, but he’s _busy_ , and Hux is all she has.

“I’m not crippled. I’m just… I’ll be fine,” she repeats, and stares down at her hands.   


“I know you’d rather appear to be invulnerable, but… we’re family, now. You can curse me out all you want, if it helps you feel less bad, but if you’d _please_ let me help you? Kylo asked me to do it because he can’t. I don’t want to imply you’re less than capable, you just need… to accept some outside help until you’re back to yourself again.”  


Her eyes close, and she tightens her shaking hands. “I have to be strong,” she admits. “For all of them. For all my troops, and all my family. It’s me. It’s always been me.”

“You stayed, when your brother and your husband left,” he says, as tactfully as he can. “It’s not weak to let others help you. That’s… that’s what the Resistance was always about, wasn’t it? Looking out for one another, not just yourself.”  


“Don’t try to sweet talk me with political ideals.” But she’s smiling, now. Rueful, but it’s there. “I’m the politician, remember?”  


“And I learned from the best,” he counters, echoing her small smile.   


There’s a moment when she wars with herself, and then she juts her chin, defiantly. “It’s a ridiculous thing, but… I don’t feel myself when I look like this.”

He tilts his head, looking her over. She’s in her normal clothes, but… “The hair?”

A nod. “I like it long, but… I would only wear it down in private. It’s impractical, and… it kind of became who I ‘was’.”

“I could help.”  


“…get me a hat?”  


Hux snorts. “Kylo’s hair isn’t short. I would sometimes help him do his. If you’d like, I could try to braid yours so it’s neat. And if it looks bad, you can lay the blame on me.”

Her focus sharpens like a kyber crystal tightening light, and then her head tilts. “You would?”

“Of course. You… like it or not, you’re my family, now. And… I want to help.”  


He wonders how many people she’s pushed away, for fear of losing her face. For fear of losing respect and control. He moves to sit on the bed behind her, and she turns her back to him, trusting him. 

“I’m glad my boy has you,” she says, as he finds the brush and starts to section her hair out. “You’re good people.”  


“No,” he disagrees, “…but I’m trying to be.”  



End file.
